


Engulfed

by Gammarus



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Simon, Communication, Condoms, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Not Beta Read, Out of Character, POV Simon Snow, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Safer Sex, Simon Snow Doesn't Have Wings or a Tail, Top Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, enjoy, just they're having sex for some reason, there's no context for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarus/pseuds/Gammarus
Summary: No context, just sex. Baz knows how he wants it and they make it happen. Post-Watford, age 19, but not, y'know, depressing, Wayward Son post-Watford.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Engulfed

He's kissing me and I'm kissing him and our hands are everywhere and he smells so good and Merlin and Morgana and hair and Baz and it's amazing. And he's nibbling on my neck and nuzzling my ear and moaning and then the moaning is words and he says “I want your prick in my arse.” 

I freeze.

“Um.”

My hands just stop where they are – I've got one in his hair and one on his waist up under his shirt. I can't quite think.

“I want it,” he says against my ear. “It's all I can think about some days. Some nights. Now. Please.” My hands are still just sitting there, stupid, but his aren't. One is roaming my back and pressing into my muscles and that feels so good and the other one is drifting to the front of my pajama trousers. I had been so hard when we were kissing but when he said that about what he wanted I started to deflate from shock but now he's gripping my prick and breathing in my ear and despite myself I'm getting hard again.

I swallow hard.”That sounds... “ I want to say it sounds good, but the truth slips out like it sometimes does. I'm holding his face in my hands and telling him the truth. “That sounds scary. I've never done that. I don't... I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't. Trust me. I've had my fingers up there and thought about you and I know I want this. I want you to be inside me. I want you to make me yours even more than I already am, than I always have been.” Me. He thinks about me. He fucks himself on his own fingers and thinks about me. This boy is going to kill me with his words.

“Can you... can you tell me what to do? How to do it?” I feel excited and shy and scared all at once. I'm holding him and he's holding me and I'm going to let him guide me because I'm confident about kissing but not about...this.

“Here, love, sit. I'll get some things ready.” I sit on my bed and watch him. He brings together some pillows and a folded blanket and piles them in the middle of the bed, near where I'm sitting. He runs his hand up the side of my face and kisses my cheek. “That's for me to rest on while you're taking me apart, when I'm so overdone with pleasure that I can't hold myself up.” I groan and grab his face and kiss him hard and deep. He's so good with words. I feel things I can't possibly figure out how to tell him so I have to say it with my body, my hands, my silent lips and seeking tongue. I trace his lips, cool under my tongue, I reach into him.

“Hold that thought,” he whispers. “I need a few more things.” He goes over to the wardrobe and comes back with a hand towel and a small bottle and a handful of little plastic packets. He sets them down by the pile of pillows. Then he goes and gets the wastebasket and sets it by the bed. “Okay, love. We have all we need. Now we just need to get friendly and comfortable and turned on and naked.” He sits by me and I reach for him. This part I know how to do.

We're seeking and touching and squeezing and nibbling and tasting. My eyes are closed and I'm inhaling his scent, cedar and bergamot and an undertone of musk because he's turned on and I'm turned on too despite those lingering nerves. I kiss his lips and let mine fall open and my tongue pulses with his tongue. I'm holding his head while we dive into each others' mouths and I slide my right hand down, gliding over his silk pajama shirt, questing for the buttons. I'm murmuring little sounds into his mouth as I undo the buttons one at a time, as I seek inside the top and trace his collarbones, down his sternum, slide to one side to grip his pec. The sound he makes when I do that leads me to grip harder, to press and massage and seek for his nipple, which I roll between my fingers so I can hear him moan, feel him lean back against my strong left arm. 

We slide backwards until we're half on the bed and I'm still questing all over his torso and his hands are on me, too, fumbling at my buttons (Baz! Fumbling! Because he's desperate for me. I can never really believe it but here it is.) He's got my shirt off and there we are, skin to skin, still kissing. I'm hot and he's cool and it's like he can take my heat into himself, just like he used to do with my magic. I have so much more energy than my body can hold and he's here to take it and feed it back to me transformed into cool grace. His hands are on my back and my arms are around him and I'm clutching him to me like life and still kissing him but he pulls back and we both stop to breathe for a minute.

“So how do you know all this? Piles of pillows and little bottles of lube and what to do?”

“The Internet, Snow. I've done my research. I've been thinking about this for years and I never thought it would happen but I wanted to know what to imagine. And now I can have it, can have you, can have this. Aleister Crowley, I'm leading a charmed life.” He gives me a quick hard kiss on my lips. “Now take off you trousers, for magic's sake.”

I skin out of my trousers and he slides off his, and they're there on the floor in a heap, my t-shirt and trackie bottoms and his posh navy silk all in a messy pile, coming together just like our bodies. And I'm hard and he's hard and he's leaned back against the pile of pillows and I'm on my side next to him and we're completely naked. He's got one hand pulling at my prick and the other in my hair and I'm doing the same to him. It's noises and smells and tastes and a feast for every sense. Smooth cool skin over his hard prick, the faintest pulse in my hand, his clear precome dripping, I spread it on the head with my thumb and he groans as I mouth at his throat. I roll onto him and press my hardness against his belly, feel his digging into me, smell the sex musk rising off of both of us.

My mouth is busy with his throat, the skin soft on the side of it, the tendon where his neck meets his shoulder, and that leaves his mouth free for a moment to tell me what he wants. “We're nearly there, Snow. We're going to do this. Here.” He sits up against me, driving our torsos vertical again, twisting in my grasp. I feel the muscles of his trunk work as he turns away from me to fix the pile of pillows. He turns back, grabbing one of the plastic packets in one hand as he grabs my cock with the other. 

Oh.

I figure out what the packet must be as he tears it open with his teeth and pulls out a little circle of rubber. It's translucent blue with a ring around it and a dimple in the middle. I've never seen a condom before but that must be what this is. He squeezes a glob of lube into the dimpled tip. My cock is aching and dripping as he sets the wet side against me and I gasp at the cool wetness against my tip. Then one hand holds the end of the condom, holding the tip a bit away from me so there's a space at the end as the other rolls it down my stiff prick, his hand gripping me firmly as he covers my length down to its base. I look down at it. It looks strange, not mine, cased in this film of something _other_ , this thin sheet of protection the only thing either of us is wearing.

He puts his forehead to mine and grips my neck in his left hand as he holds my aching prong in his right. “I want this, I want it now. Are you ready?”

“I still don't know what to do. But I'm here. I'm here with you and if you can tell me what to do, I'll do it.”

“It's going to be easy. All you have to do is hold still, at least at first.” I'm nervous but I'm excited and I can hear the tremble in his chest but he's speaking with an outward confidence that gives me something to hold onto. He breaks the seal on the little bottle then he's squeezing the thick, clear liquid into his cupped hand and then he's gripping my condom-covered prick and oh my god even through the rubber the slippery and the cool and the squeeze and oh my god. “Kneel here.” He points to a spot on the bed about a foot away from the pile of pillows. I shuffle over and steady myself with one hand on the wall and I touch his face with the other and pull him to me for a quick kiss. “Okay, love. Stay right there,” he instructs me. He takes my hand from his face and puts it on my prick. “Hold this steady for me. And, um, you may have to help direct it a little. But no pushing until I say so, let me come to you.”

I'm still not sure how this is going to work, so I watch, my attention riveted, as he turns away from me and bends over the pile of pillows. He's on all fours, bringing his arse towards me. He's coming in a little too far to the right, so I put my hand on his hip and line us up. Damn his long legs, he's a little too high, but as he seeks backwards the bend in his knees compensates for the height difference. I redirect my prick a little and he moves that last inch and we're in contact, the fleshy star in his cleft up against the tip of my slicked-up, blue-clad prick. His breath catches and so does mine. This is not what I was expecting tonight but he's taking me through it and it's suddenly everything I want.

He rests his torso down on the pillows for a moment and takes a deep breath, lets it out, and starts to push back against me. “Hold still,” he reminds me, and it's a good thing he does, because I want to grab and thrust but I see what he's doing, it makes sense. He can feel what his body is ready for so it makes sense for him to be in control. Also he is Baz and it just seems right for him to be in control.

He rocks forward away from me by just a millimeter, just a breath, and then he's pressing back against me and my tip is entering him, or he's coming onto me, and I feel his strong muscle stretch and slide around me and he's partway on, not even halfway down the head and it's tight and alive (I don't care what he says, he's so alive) and sliding further down me and oh.

Oh.

Oh.

The head is in and it's gripped tight in his embrace and he's stopping and breathing and I've forgotten to breathe. We're connected now so I figure I don't have to point my cock at the target any more. I bring my hands to his hips and rest them there lightly. I'm not grabbing, I'm still letting him drive, but I want to feel him, feel connected by more than just my prick that's in his arse and oh god he's moving. He's sliding back towards me, slowly, engulfing me. I'm watching my rubber-clad prick vanish into his bumhole, lube squeezing out around the edges, his rim faintly pink and shiny with lube and I gulp air because I have to and my eyes close and oh.

He stops moving and we both just breathe for a minute and then he speaks. “Okay, Snow?”

I gulp. “More than okay, Baz. You're amazing. This is amazing.” His arse is cool, like his mouth. And like his mouth, I bet it will warm up as we go. “What's it like for you?”

“I feel so full, full of you. You're hot inside me. It's wonderful.” He stretches his neck an his shoulders and grinds his bum against my hips. “I think I'm ready for you to move. Start slow.” Okay. I can do this. I _want_ to do this. My _body_ wants to do this but my brain – what's left of it – knows I need to be careful. I grip tighter on his hips and draw back slowly until I'm about halfway out and then I slide in again, slow and gentle but not stopping until I'm all the way in. We're both making low noises as I slide back and forth, in and out, keeping it slow even though something in my hips wants to drive hard and fast and rough. There will be time for that when we know our way around this, when we have enough practice that I can lean further into my instincts. For now I should be deliberate and careful. Or as careful as I can, because I have never been this close to him and it feels _so good_

“Stop!” he says.

I freeze. “Are you okay? What's wrong!?”

“Nothing's wrong. Sorry if I scared you. Just, now that we're started, I want to see your face. Pull out for just a sec, okay?”

I pull out slowly and feel lost without him around me. He throws all the pillows off the bed except one and lies on his back, arse on the pillow, knees bent, heels against his cheeks and knees loose out to the sides. “Add some more lube and come back in. I think you can drive this time so long as you go slow. I'm so ready.”

I look him in the face and nod. I fumble for the bottle, fill my palm with goo, slick myself up with my eyes locked on his. Grey eyes dark with pleasure, chest filling with the deep breaths of relaxed anticipation. I steady myself with my right hand on his knee and use my left hand to point my prick right at his opening. It's warmer than it was, pink and wet and puffy from my pumping. I press in, gently but firmly. It feels so right, so good, already it's like coming home. He inhales sharply and grabs his knees, pulling them up to his chest. I slide in slowly about three quarters of my length. I lean forward, rest a hand by his head to support myself and bring my lips to his, and we're kissing and I'm thrusting and he's warming up around me and tight and I taste his lips and his tongue and oh and his hands are in my hair, grabbing and pulling and then it's only one hand because he's got the other on his prick, I feel him pulling on himself as he's groaning into my mouth and I'm moving inside him and my prick feels the best it ever has and wet and moving and slippery and he's “Oh! Simon unghhhhh” and his spunk is shooting all over us and I'm exploding and I see stars and gasping and groaning and coming down and falling against his chest and heaving with the release and we're gasping for breath. “Grab the base tight and pull out.” I can't believe he can make a sentence right now but he do what he says. My cock is down to half-hard and sagging fast; the end of the condom is flopping down, full of white goo that's my spunk, caught before it could spill out inside him. And he's taking hold of it and sliding it off and tying a knot to hold in the stuff and tossing it in the trash (because even sweaty and fucked out and dripping with lube he's still Baz and he's not gonna just drop it on the floor) and wiping his arse with the towel and handing it to me and I give myself a quick swipe and we're lying down and I'm burying my face in his neck and yeah. Lying there and drifting off and thinking I might be a little bit in love.

**Author's Note:**

> This just started out as a minor point I wanted to make about anal sex: you don't need to start a session with your fingers if the receiving partner is properly relaxed and can control the process. And then I figured that a smut fic would get the point across better than a dry little instructional essay. So I was musing about what would be in the fic for a few days then last night I woke up at 4 am and all I could think about was this smut fic and now here we are.


End file.
